Bonds are Formed
by CrazyCatLadyVia
Summary: Young Integra awakes to find herself in the dungeons, hours after the assassination attempt by her uncle. The vampire has been released. Injured and weary, she beings to form a bond with her unlikely servant.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or any characters associated with Hellsing.

The darkness pressed down on her, stifling and hot, leaving her wanting for a breath of crisp, autumn air, which she had felt only a few days ago. Or, at least, she believed it to be a few days. Thoughts began to form in her muddled mind.

Where on Earth was she? Why was it so dark? And why was it so bloody hot? Quickly, she became aware of lying down, something heavy and soft covering her up to her neck. Struggling under the weight, she managed to lift and shift the stifling thing aside. It was several layers of blankets, covers, and throws. Her other senses began to come back, some more quickly then others.

She could hear the _drip, drip, drip _of water on stone, as well as her own soft breathing. Somewhere above, water seemed to be flowing through pipes, and the faint crackling of flame was somewhere to her left. The smell of damp, mold, and blood were overwhelming, as well as the more subtle scents of candle wax, earth, and sulfur. She could also taste the funny, metallic, taste of blood in her mouth combined with the unpleasant taste of staleness. She felt the urge to brush her teeth, as her mouth felt cottony and dry. She could see little, only the dim outline of a ceiling above her, the general shape of blankets, and the tiny pool of light from a candle on a wooden table in the center of the smallish room.

The candle was not cheery, nor did it give a warm light. It was odd, making the room look foreboding, drawing the shadows of various, undistinguishable objects high and dark across the dismal stone walls. It was cold, giving off a sickly, cool light that seemed to tinge the room green. A shudder ran down her spine, despite the stifling heat that still pressed down on her, making it difficult to draw in breath. She tried to sit up, to have a better look around.

As she preformed this simple action, her mind began to whirl, throwing her into a severe state of dizziness. Another sensation became prominent, demanding her full attention by causing a sickening, dropping feeling the pit of her stomach and a complicated lacework of shooting pains up her left arm and shoulder. She cried out, throwing her right hand to her shoulder to apply pressure instinctively, which only caused her to fall back against the mountain of cushions and pillows she had been laying on. Something wet, hot, and sticky was seeping through her blouse against her hand. She didn't need to look to know it was blood.

Like a slap to the face, the events of the evening came back full force. Her father's death, her uncle's plot to murder her, crawling through the air shafts, falling into the dark dungeons. The bullet that grazed on her shoulder, the fear and adrenaline that forced her to open the door behind her, the corpse…. And then…

After that, it became more shapes and colors, fuzzy around the edges. Her blood was spilt, dark red on the darker ground, her uncle's crazed grin, the hired henchmen closing in for the kill. Suddenly there was a commotion, someone crying "It moved!" Then it was all black, red, and white. Black leather, black guns, black suits. White hair, white fire, white eyes. Red blood, red flesh, red eyes.

Red eyes.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open as though she had just woken from a nightmare. Her breathing was uneven, her pale blue hues glued to the ceiling. '_It wasn't a nightmare',_ she realized, suddenly, '_It was _real.'

Red eyes, smirking, cold, feral. Killer's eyes. And yet, she didn't feel threatened. Well, no, that wasn't the truth. She had felt terrified, horrified, bewildered, and above all, _angry_. She remembered that deep baritone laugh, his dark words, the animalistic growls and snarls, combined with soothing speech and a mesmerizing tone. The sound of gunfire echoing, her uncle screaming something out, cursing her and the demon that knelt before her. The flash of black before her eyes. His arm. A sudden calm had descended on her. She asked his name. He grinned and answered. Her finger pulled the trigger on the pistol, though she never could remember picking it up.

And he answered her. The deep baritone echoed in the darkest dungeons of Hellsing along with the scream of death, the thunder of gunfire.

_Alucard_.

She drew in a deep breath, her eyes focusing once more on the present.

She lay there for a time, how long she could never be sure of, before a new sound invaded her quiet thoughts. Footsteps. Heavy, booted, footsteps were approaching from outside the little room. A door creaked open, one she hadn't really noticed along the far, left wall.

Her arm was throbbing, though she paid it no mind, her mind flooded with the gruesome night, the night her inheritance became unthreatened. The images repeated in her mind's eye, the deep baritone voice echoing in her ears. Her eyes had been trained to the flickering, greenish flame, watching it with dazed eyes as it threw shadows along the walls and ceiling.

The daze suddenly lifted, forcing her eyes towards the movement. All breath was lost as he entered.

He was different in appearance since when she had last seen him, but all the same, it was still the demon who had saved her. His long, white hair was gone, replaced with a shorter mess of ebony tendrils that seemed to move of their own accord, playing over his face and neck as he moved. The leather bindings were stripped away, replaced instead with a fine grey suit of an older era, a flowing coat of red material with a fedora to match. The fangs and claws seemed to have shorted, or at least become more concealed now that the bloodlust had passed. The only thing that seemed to have remained the same where those burning, sunset red eyes. They were like flames, like the flames of war, bright and all too red, stained with blood and battle, dancing with emotions, though still unreadable. The emotions flicked too fast, thus changing the color, which made it impossible to pinpoint the exact color of them at any given moment.

He was not smiling now, as he had been in the chamber where she had nearly been killed. He moved like a shadow, all too comfortable in his stride to be human, though he was clearly making the effort of noise with his boots for her benefit. Somehow, she knew that he could walk without even the slightest sound, if he even needed to walk at all. He approached her, giving a small smirk when she did not flinch or move away at his presence. He knelt beside the bed, looking at her with those flickering orbs, seeming to read her, take in everything that was her, whether it showed on her face or not.

He knelt like that for a long while, his arms at his sides, one knee bent, the other resting beneath him, the red coat flooding the floor like blood around his person. She merely stared back, lying on her back, her head turned slightly to look up at him with steady, glazed eyes. Perhaps she was in shock? Was that why she felt no fear from this… this… She could not bring herself to think the word that described the being before her.

As the thought flicked through her mind, he seemed to see it, and gave a larger smirk, a soft '_Hmph_' sound coming from deep in his throat. He moved then, bringing his large, gloved hands up to bed, both snaking forward to grasp her much smaller hand in them. He was cool to the touch, even through the soft fabric of the white gloves. There was a strange symbol on one, words on the other, but she did not read them. She merely watched as he gently clasped his hands around her left hand.

She started when he spoke, an involuntary action that brought forth another smirk from this beast.

"Master Integral Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. It is an impressive title for one of such a tender age." His voice sent tiny shocks through her nerves, pulsing with each syllable. His voice was softer, deeper now. He continued. "You fought well, considering you have never held a gun before. I was surprised when that disgusting dog didn't kill you, however, a true Master will fight until death, if need be. You're worthy, though you seem to have sustained injuries, my Master…"

His speech was soft, almost a purr, as he praised her, though it sounded almost mocking in his tone. She ignored it, simply listening to his words, taking them in without comment, never really having seen or been in the presence of a..a…_vampire_… before. She was almost proud at having at last thought the word, but quickly brushed it off as he mentioned her injury.

Her throat was dry, but she opened her mouth to speak anyway. Clearing her throat as best she could, she croaked, "Y..Yes… My shoulder is bleeding, I think." She watched his eyes dart to her left shoulder, knowing exactly what was wrong it seemed, before she had even mentioned it. He smirked, though not unkindly, and released her hand before running his finger over the wound beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

She winced sharply at the pinpoint of pressure he applied, her eyes never leaving his face. His smirk remained, though only a ghost of it now. Gently, he tugged the material to move it down. She jumped.

Raising an eyebrow at her, he simply stated "I can't heal you if I can not see the wound, Master." Hesitantly, she complied, allowing him to help her into a seated position before he unbuttoned two of the front buttons of her blouse and slipped the garment partially from her shoulder to reveal the gunshot wound. It was bleeding freely, but it wasn't too deep, perhaps even too shallow for stitches.

She felt modest even still, the front of her blouse being pulled down further then she was comfortable with, though she held it closed as best as she could with her right hand. Not that there was much to see of her under developed body just yet, but he was a man, an undead man, and a monster.

He seemed to examine the gash for a while before moving forward suddenly, running his cold, slippery tongue up her arm, lapping up a trail of blood as well as touching the opened wound. She gasped, letting out a little shriek, yanking her arm from his gentle grasp, propelling herself to the right, farther from his reach.

Her reaction seemed to startle him, at the very least. He stiffened, his eyes widening considerably, the corners of his mouth dropping in a severe frown. His eyebrows went high, disappearing under the long fringe of black, shaggy hair as well. He recovered first, however, letting his hands drop to the edge of the bed, looking silently at his master, an annoyed look crossing his features. It would have been a comical expression if she was not frightened half to death.

"You… You were going to suck my blood! You evil, vile, untrustworthy thing! How dare you try this! All this nonsense of calling me Master and suddenly, you turn like a savage dog and attack! Have you no self restraint or didn't you get enough blood when you sucked my uncle's men dry?" Her shrieks were hysterical, hot tears spilling over her soft, blond lashes to burn white-hot trails down her flaming cheeks. She had pressed herself against the wall, her legs folded up to her chest, holding her left arm gingerly with her right, all the while glaring at the vampire before her.

As the raving slowed, the vampire servant sat silently and looked at his master. She was fuming, though was now silent, simply glaring at him, tears still spilling down her rosy cheeks. The blood was close to the surface of her skin, calling to him, though he restrained himself and looked to the little girl once more.

"Are you done, then, my master?" A fierce glare answered his rather snide comment. He nodded, not bothering to hide his smirk, that loathsome expression that she was beginning to hate. With a sigh, he reached out his hand, palm up, offering it to her. She flinched away, drawing herself into a tighter ball, like a porcupine when threatened; only this little fighter had no quills to protect herself with.

When she did not take his hand, he moved slowly to touch her left arm once more, trying to persuade her by touch alone. It was not an aggressive gesture, though, as a frightened little girl, she took it as one and flinched away once more. With a slight roll of his fiery eyes, his soft voice broke the uncomfortable silence once more. She would later appreciate his patience with her.

"Master, this is how I heal wounds. Your fragile, human body can't regenerate itself like a vampire's can, so by appealing a little saliva to the wound, it will close and mend itself. Though, I must admit to being tempted by your blood. It is delicious…" The last part he added with a wide, wicked grin. He received a severe glare as well as the sound of her small heart beating wildly in her chest.

The vampire chuckled and shook his head, the black mane whirling like mist around his ears. "What did Arthur teach you, girl? You seem to know nothing of me or of any powers of a true vampire. Perhaps he did not mean for you to be the heir, only died before he could name another…"

It was enough to make her snap. Despite the pain in her arm or the fear she had felt only moments before, the young Hellsing sat up straight and glared with fierce blue hues, which seemed to crackle with angry sparks. She found her voice in an instant, which seemed to shake the very walls, so loud was the sudden echo.

"How dare you insult my intelligence and my father's decision! His sudden death had nothing to do with the fact that I am and always was meant to be his heir! As you may or may not have noticed, I am only twelve! I wasn't meant to inherit this god damned organization for at least another ten years, so I apologize to you, you pompous, arrogant, blood-sucking, fiend, for my lack of understanding on the subject of over powered, super vampires living in the basement of my home, which I was unaware of! My father did everything in his power to teach me everything he could before his time was up, it isn't his fault that his time was cut short by disease, though I suspect now that it was, in fact, the work of my traitorous uncle that caused his death! Now shut up and heal my wounds, but if you suck my blood, I swear to you, I will knock you upside the head with a candlestick and lock you back from whence you came!"

It was a while before the vampire made a sound. At the sudden onslaught of anger, he had straightened up to stare at the fuming little girl with flushed creeks who had enough gall to scream into the face of a deadly monster. The only sound was her heavy breathing and the slight ringing echo that lingered in the room after her furious tantrum.

"A candlestick?" he finally asked, a dark eyebrow raised. She blinked, looking at the monster for a moment in silence. Then he laughed. His laugh was loud and joyous, honestly amused by the ridiculous image that the description conjured in his head. It was infectious, for after a moment, she, too, began to giggle slightly, which progressed into full-blown laughter until her cheeks became even rosier. He composed himself first, shaking his head slightly, a wide smirk still plastered on his face. She quieted soon after, though a smile lingered in her eyes and on her soft, pink mouth.

Extending his hand as before, he waited for her to set her forearm in his palm before he pulled her forward slightly to examine the wound once more. It was congealing now, though fresh blood still oozed from it slightly. His garnet hues flickered to her face, as a confirmation of her consent. She nodded now, though a small spark of anxiety twisted her expression. It was almost humorous, seeing such a young soul with such a determined, anxious expression, almost as though she were going into battle. He chuckled before turning his attention back to the injury.

Tugging the material down further, he extended his long red tongue, tracing the perimeter of the wound slowly with the tip, effectively cleaning the area before pressing the whole of it to the entire wound. She took in a sharp breath, her body tensing under the sensation. It felt hot and tight, like when one receives a blister from a burn, though it only tingled instead of stinging. She watched with fascination as the vampire began to lap at the blood at still oozed, as well as the blood that had trickled down her arm.

His eyes were half-lidded and he moved slowly, as though he were in a trance or intoxicated. Perhaps he was both. As his tongue flicked over the gash, her skin seemed to pull up from around it, essentially re-growing over the wounded area. The tingling grew more intense as the edges of the new skin fused, healing over to leave little more then a faint, white line of a scar. He didn't stop, however, until her entire shoulder and arm were cleansed of blood. She found, even at her tender age, that she didn't mind the feeling. In fact, she silently wished for him not to stop.

She pulled her arm away slowly, though her hand slid into his as he released her. He grasped it, holding it delicately, like one would hold a song bird, before leaning forward to press his cool lips to the top of her hand. A gentleman vampire. A deep, scarlet blush had spread across her cheeks, though she remained silent through this gesture of… of what? Formality? Assurance? Affection? She wasn't quite sure, but it didn't seem to matter. He released her then, straightening to his kneeling pose once more, smirking slightly.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper. He merely inclined his head towards her before standing smoothly to his feet. He offered her his hand once more, silently looking down at her with a passive expression. She hesitated a moment before slipping her hand into his, pulling herself towards him, off the bed. As her feet settled on the floor, her knees began to wobble and almost buckled from lack of use. '_Or lack of blood_,' she thought to herself.

The vampire steadied her with, catching her elbow to help her keep her balance. She sorely felt the need for air, the pressure of the room descending upon her suddenly. He seemed to understand and silently began to escort her out the door and along the dark corridor that hopefully lead to the exit. The stone scrapped under their feet as they walked, she setting their pace at a brisk walk. He slowed for her, keeping pace at her side like a good hunting dog. His hand still held hers as they made their way towards the upper floor, and as they reached the stairs, he ventured to slide an arm around her waist to ensure her balance. Later, she would admit to feeling weak enough to collapse if it hadn't been for his help.

The pair reached the top of the stairs, which were positioned just off the front foyer. The house was dark, except for the light of the moon coming in from the high windows in the hall, setting a cool, eerie light around them, though she hardly noticed. All the little heiress could think about was the cool air that flowed easily into her lungs at that point. She felt exhausted from the small trek up from the dungeons, as well as the events that happened down below. Stepping away from her escort, she went to the front door and pulled it open, letting a chilly wind wash over her like a bucket of icy water.

She shut her blue eyes against the air which stung her eyes and made them water and spread her arms out wide, tipping her head back to feel the full extent of the cleansing cold. Before she knew it, the tears brought on by the wind were flowing down her face. These were tears of anger, of hatred, of loneliness, heartache, pain, relief, thankfulness, and acceptance. Her chest felt tight, a ball of emotions forming a painful knot around her heart, even as she choked on her sobs. Another strong wind washed over her, blowing her white hair away from her face and neck, billowing out like bird wings. In that instant, she felt the pressure in her chest give way, releasing in a single burst of energy from her throat until it echoed over the entire grounds, vibrating through all the halls like a living thing.

Vermillion eyes never left the sight of his master, poised like Christ on the cross, angel wings fluttering around her and illuminated by the light of the cleansing moon. This was a creature of power and strength that he had not witnessed in ages and his opinion was proved further as her cry sprang from her lips, sounding her heart to the world, letting the final tears of her past flow from her body like sins washed away during a baptism. A wide grin spread across his lips, his fangs gleaming in the cool light, sunset hues set on the form of his master. How glorious she appeared, bathed in moonlight and the blood. How glorious she would be in the future, bathed in the blood of her enemies, a cold, wicked expression on her angelic features. The grin widened at this particular thought.

How glorious she truly would be.

Author's note: I'm not sure whether to continue this or to leave it as it is. Please give me feedback on what you believe I should do and if you enjoyed it. I would appreciate constructive criticism as well. I realize there is a lot going on, but I wanted to show many of the emotions that would be likely to happen with a young Integra. This is my first posted Hellsing fanfiction. Thank you.


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